


Thief Who Stole My Heart

by thesoundofnat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sick Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4100884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoundofnat/pseuds/thesoundofnat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin doesn’t want the others to see how awful he’s actually feeling, but Bilbo notices almost straight away. How does one make a sick king feel better? Body heat, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thief Who Stole My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr thesoundofnat.tumblr.com. Title taken from tumblr user tinylilremus's song "Dragons".

Thorin knew he wasn’t being fair. The rain had been pouring down since early in the morning, leaving them all soaking wet, cold, and exhausted. Yet Thorin still insisted that they keep going, and it wasn’t until both Dwalin and Balin, who rarely complained too much, voiced their concerns for the tenth time in an hour that Thorin decided to let them all take cover in a cave. A fire was set up instantly, and they all just sat around for a while, too tired to do much else just yet.

However, they were all pretty used to living like this by now, so it didn’t take too long until everyone started on their individual tasks, such as cleaning and sharpening knives and other weapons, preparing dinner, as well as discussing the next day’s journey. Thorin let himself relax for the first time in probably years. His company had it all under control.

Hours later, after they had devoured their food and made plans for the coming days, Thorin realized that he hadn’t relaxed because he’d wanted to. He’d relaxed because he’d needed to. And with relaxed he meant that he’d been rooted to the spot, all but melting onto the hard ground because his energy had gone. He wasn’t just exhausted. He was sick.

He cursed everything he could think of, hoping that he’d feel better after some sleep. He didn’t want the others to worry, and knowing his fellow dwarves they probably wouldn’t say anything about it.

But hobbits were not dwarves.

“You look terrible.” Bilbo usually didn’t try to get on Thorin’s bad side on purpose, so him saying that must mean that Thorin did, indeed, look bad.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, inhaling sharply when his voice came out weaker than normally.

Bilbo frowned at him. “You don’t sound fine.”

Thorin had spent hours leaning against the cold stonewall in the cave, slightly far away from the company. Bilbo was sitting in front of the fire, his empty bowl next to him. He was the closest to Thorin, and therefore had a better view of him.

“Well, I am,” Thorin snapped back, feeling dizzy as he spoke.

Bilbo just looked at him for a few seconds, not cowering at the irritated glare he got in return. “At least come and sit closer to the fire.”

Thorin didn’t feel like arguing, so he did as Bilbo suggested, slowly dragging himself toward the hobbit and getting several funny looks from the others in return. He didn’t have the energy to walk.

“Do you want me to make you some soup? It won’t take long. I can just use some of my water and heat it up.”

Thorin closed his eyes, his head pounding. “You don’t have to waste your water on me.”

“I think I can manage.”

Thorin opened his eyes again. “I’m fine. I don’t need soup.” He paused, giving him a quick glance. “But thank you for the offer.”

Bilbo just gave him a small smile before turning his gaze to the fire.

They sat in silence as the rest of the company talked, all of them seemingly a lot more rested than before. Thorin started shivering, feeling as if he was still stuck in the storm instead of in a damp, yet warmer cave. He clenched his fists, trying to keep still. A true king wouldn’t let this show.

He felt a small hand on his own, his head snapping toward Bilbo who was looking at him with those big, concerned eyes.

“Body heat,” he mumbled. “I’ve heard it helps.”

Thorin unclenched his fist slowly and tentatively, and eventually Bilbo was able to slide his hand into Thorin’s, their fingers lacing together. Bilbo scooted closer to him so that their clothes hid their hands from view.

The feeling of Bilbo’s hand in his own, as well as their arms and thighs pressed together, made him feel slightly better immediately. He slumped where he was sitting, his body aching. Bilbo started rubbing his knuckles with his thumb.

“Thank you,” Thorin breathed out. He leaned into him, forgetting he was a lot smaller than he was.

“No problem,” Bilbo replied with a smile. “I figured everyone needs someone to lean on from time to time. Even you.”

Thorin snorted, but didn’t say anything in return. He just gave his hand a squeeze.

They did this as often as they could. They walked closer than people normally would, their arms always pressed together. They leaned into each other when they sat, their thighs and knees touching. Not to mention the occasional hand-holding whenever it got too cold and Thorin would start shivering again. Neither of them was quite sure if the others noticed anything or not, and frankly they didn’t really care. Thorin was sick and Bilbo was helping him.

Until one day Thorin felt a lot better, but the frequent touching didn’t stop. In fact, it continued for so long that they knew that they couldn’t really use the excuse of illness anymore, but neither of them commented on it. It was just easier to not talk about it.

But Bilbo, being Bilbo, brought it up eventually.

“Thorin?” His hushed voice in the silent forest made Thorin’s eyes fly open.

“Bilbo?”

It was almost pitch dark with the exception of the dying fire. It cast eerie shadows over the hobbit’s face, but Thorin could see his wide opened eyes clearly.

“What-” He cut himself off. The hand that Thorin was holding twitched slightly. “What are we?”

Thorin’s gaze landed on every single dwarf’s (and wizard’s) sleeping form before settling on Bilbo. “We’re a team,” he said quietly. “We’re an unusual pair. We’re...we’re just us.”

Bilbo didn’t seem to be satisfied with the answer. “But what is ‘us’?” he pressed.

Thorin, who had never been too good at expressing himself with words, let his mouth speak in a different language. He leaned in closer, giving Bilbo time to pull away if he wanted to, and pressed their lips together.

“Does that answer your question?” he asked once they’d pulled away.

Bilbo nodded breathlessly before going in for a second kiss.

How Bilbo hadn’t caught Thorin’s cold was a mystery.


End file.
